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Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Drabble, Fanart, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sorting Hat looked rather crumpled and ugly, for such a famous artifact. <em>”Let’s see what’s so special about you”</em>, Sherlock thought, as the wide brim sunk down and obscured his vision. <em>”What’s so special about <b>you</b>, Sherlock Holmes?”</em></p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> A really short, unbeta'd drabble I wrote more than a year ago, to go with the fanart pictured. Originally posted on [tumblr.](http://skara-brae.tumblr.com/post/42161809241/netherworldvineyard-sherlock-holmes-the)

Sherlock started fidgeting at “Aether Aarons”, infuriated by his poor view of the proceedings. He had looked forward to deducing the house each student would be sorted into before the Hat made the announcement, but wedged as he was behind overgrown first years, it was a futile endeavor. He shuffled his feet through the Bs and Cs and endless Es. 

Around “Fatima Farquhar” he started eying the distance between his seat and Mycroft’s head, calculating the probable speed and trajectory of various uneaten items on his plate, if launched with a spoon. There was a watchful prickliness about this hall, though, that kept Sherlock from mischief. It was a different kind of watchfulness than that of the Holmes manor, less like the glowing eyes of a stalking creature and more like a full moon.

Sherlock looked up at the shifting ceiling, stars peeking through wisps of cloud. Mycroft had told him that the visible stars were arranged in patterns, and named according to myths and heroes. Sherlock drew lines between the bright points in his mind’s eye, guessing at their shapes and stories. He was so thoroughly distracted through the Fs and Gs that when “Sherlock Holmes” rang out, he startled and nearly tripped over his own long legs. 

The Sorting Hat looked rather crumpled and ugly, for such a famous artifact. 

_”Let’s see what’s so special about you”_ , Sherlock thought, as the wide brim sunk down and obscured his vision.

**_”What’s so special about_ you, _Sherlock Holmes?”_**

A voice that wasn’t his own was speaking inside of Sherlock’s head. His mind spasmed like a startled frog, but he wasn't too startled to snap, _“Isn’t it obvious?”_

**_”Hm. Intelligence, yes indeed,”_** came the gravelly echo. **_“Noisy in here. But rational, fearless in pursuit of knowledge.”_** There was a considering hum. **_“Perhaps a bit mad.”_**

Sherlock’s brow wrinkled under the brim. _“I’m not mad,”_ he hissed.

 ** _”No, you’re not,”_** the Hat agreed, **_“but people might wonder. How does that make you feel?”_**

_”I don’t care what other people think.”_

**_”I see.”_** The voice in his head almost sounded like it was chuckling. Sherlock clenched his hands at his sides. What did a stupid hat know about anything? 

**_“A beehive isn’t necessarily brave,”_** the voice mused. **_"It only behaves according to its nature."_**

_”What? What’s that supposed to mean? What are you looking at-- in there? How do you know--”_

The hat interrupted, **_“Ravenclaw is an excellent place for asking questions.”_**

Before Sherlock could retort, it continued, **_“But also unfortunately inclined to petty academic competition. Might be a place for the model student or the weirdo, but not the ideal house for superior persons, hm? Slytherin, now—”_**

 _”No.”_ Sherlock didn’t hesitate. _“Mycroft is in Slytherin. I’m not like him. It isn't as if it matters what house I’m in, anyway, or what school-- I’ll_ always _be superior.”_

**_”Oho, is that so? Holmes through and through. I see strength of will, I see cunning and incredible natural ability; the potential for power, too. Slytherin would set you on the path to powe—”_**

“Dull.” 

Sherlock didn’t realize he’d spoken the word aloud, or that he’d been sitting with the Hat on his head for so long that some of the first years were gaping.

 ** _”Very well, then.”_** The bodiless voice faded out of his head, and loudly announced--

**”Ravenclaw!”**

Sherlock caught Mycroft’s eye across the hall, his ridiculous prefect badge glinting in the candlelight, and saw him frown. Sherlock’s answering grin was so wide and so wicked that the Hat might have second-guessed its verdict.


End file.
